


Bedding Alayne

by redcandle17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcandle17/pseuds/redcandle17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alayne offers herself to Sandor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedding Alayne

She calls herself Alayne and looks at him with a boldness Sansa Stark never had. She laughs at her companions' ribald jests with nary a blush staining her cheeks. She is as different from the girl he knew as can be, but he is certain of her identity. Sandor gives no sign that he recognizes her; she is safe and seemingly happy, and he has no desire to spoil her disguise.

When the feast ends, his brethren leave the hall but Sandor lingers behind. He watches Alayne, trying to commit to memory the sound of her laughter and the shape of her body. Then he feels Littlefinger's gaze upon him and realizes he is drawing attention to himself. Sansa Stark is not the only one who is hiding. He takes one last look at her and strides from the hall.

He is almost at the entrance to the chamber his party has been given for the night when he hears the sound of someone running behind him. He knows who it is before he turns, or at least he hoped. "Lady Alayne," he says. It's a shorter way of saying _don't worry, your secret is safe._

Her flight through the castle and up the stairs has stolen her breath, making her chest heave. Her teats have grown nicely in the years since he last saw her. "I fear I have been a poor hostess, brother. Forgive me. Is there anything you or your brothers require?"

"No."

She doesn't go. She stands there watching him with a look he can't decipher. Sandor pushes back his cowl to make it easier for her. "I'm just as ugly as you remember, girl."

"I'm afraid I don't remember meeting you before, brother. I was raised in a motherhouse though, so maybe we met when I was very young."

"What in the seven hells are you playing at?"

"Perhaps you could guide me in my evening prayer." She takes off down the corridor, giving him a look over her should that instructs him to follow her.

It's no sept she leads him to, and she begins to undress as soon as he enters the bed chamber. She may not want to admit that she is Sansa Stark and he is Sandor Clegane, but it's clear what she wants. Though he's recited holy vows and been anointed by the High Septon, there's nothing saintly about Sandor and he doesn't hesitate.

He kisses her, harder than he intended but she doesn't seem to mind. She throws her arms around him and Sandor enjoys the embrace before peeling her away so he can reach those bountiful breasts of hers. He's suddenly aware of the calluses on his hands and how rough his touch must feel to her soft skin. She makes sounds of delight, though, and when he slides his hand between her thighs, he finds her cunt already wet.

"Please, we must hurry," she urges, "Before my father finds me missing."

Her eyes widen when he removes his clothes and she sees the scars on his body. For a moment it seems like she might ask about them but she doesn't. She only touches his burned arm tenderly and draws him back to her.

He kneels between her legs and fucks her from there so he can watch her face. He doesn't expect her to look at his scarred face. She surprises him by staring into his eyes and moaning while he fucks her. He's the one who looks away, his attention caught by the way her teats bounce. He pinches one of her nipples and is rewarded with a startled, "Oh!"

"Sansa," he pants.

"Alayne," she corrects.

He's distantly amused that she can maintain her charade even now but mostly he's about to come. It's important that she come too, though it's never mattered before. He rubs that spot just above her cunt, but he doesn't have much practice at it and he feels clumsy. "Touch yourself," he tells her.

She obeys, her hands cupping her breasts.

"No, touch your cunt."

She slides her hand down between them and touches him quickly before doing as he told her. He adjusts his grip on her legs and fucks her harder than before. She cries out, but it's all wordless. When she comes, it's "oh" on her lips, not his name.

He grabs her by the throat. "My name, little bird. Say my name."

"Sandor," she whispers, and he comes then.

She holds him for a long time, but when he rolls off her and tries to cuddle, she doesn't allow it. She kisses him on his unburned cheek and again on his burned cheek and finally, quickly and sweetly, on his lips. "Remember me," she says, as if he could ever forget her. She's back in her clothes and out of the room before he thinks to ask the same of her.


End file.
